


Seasons (of love) Unending

by floralb0t



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: FORGOT THE SLOWBURN TAG. WHAT A FOOL, Keith is Dragonborn, Lance is a Mage, M/M, Skyrim Dragonborn AU, Slow Burn, Slow To Update, will update tags as it progresses, yeah this thing will be mega slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:15:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24601450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floralb0t/pseuds/floralb0t
Summary: “What’s your name?”Should he answer? Keith couldn’t remember. The anger and the want to run were fading, and now he was just so tired. If he answered, would they let him sleep?His guard shook him again. It made his brain hurt. “Akira,” he managed to mumble out.The Captain laughed harshly. “You’re Akira? You? Well, I’m sure every bandit camp in a week’s ride will thank us for capturing you.”---This is a repost, but is my own work. It was originally posted pre-season 5 and taken down just after season 6. I removed it because I hadn't worked on it in a long while :( . Since then I've come back to it somewhat and do feel bad about removing it in the first place. please enjoy !
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Kudos: 17





	1. Unbound

The wood underneath Keith groaned slightly as the wagon rounded another curve in the road. There would be no way out this time. This time, he had really done it.

The wind in the trees was low and gentle. There was distant music in the air, meaning they were nearly at their destination. Under the cart, small quartz rocks glimmered in the fading sunlight. The others in the back with him were in varying states of consciousness and distress. It is hard to hear their breathing over the groaning of the wood and the stamp of the horses hooves.

Every sound was like a hammer to his skull. No doubt, he had been knocked upside the head so hard he had to be concussed.

God, Keith had  _ really _ done it. 

The person sitting across from him diagonally in the cart slowly groaned and woke. The bruises on his face made him hard to look at, but it was even harder to hear him talk. Keith didn’t think he looked much better. A curse slipped past the man’s lips.

“Gods save me. My head pounds…”

There was a pause as he, Keith assumed, it was hard to tell under the black eyes, looked around at his fellows. A look of abject horror was dawning on his face.

“It wasn't a nightmare. Why?” He began to sob. “Why is this happening to me?”

The man directly across from Keith laughed. It was a harsh sound. “You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. You just walked into that ambush, same as all of us! Hah!” The blonde stormcloak gained a gentle smile. “At least you will die with heros.”

Keith was too angry at himself for making such a dumb mistake to challenge the stormcloak on his statement. Another sob escaped the man as he took in his fellows. 

“Heros? You bunch of … of … of Stormcloak Wolves!”

The man across from Keith slammed his fists down, ignoring the angry “Keep it down, back there!” from the guards. He then made a gesturing nod towards the man besides Keith. “You are in the presence of the  _ true _ High-King of Skyrim, Ulfric Stormcloak! Hold your tongue before I  _ make  _ you hold it, you hedge-born knave.”

Gods, Keith thought, so much drama. Couldn’t he just sit there, stewing in his own idiocy, in peace? All he wanted to do was cross the border to get back home, but  _ noooo _ . He just  _ had _ to get captured with Ulfric Fucking Stormcloak. 

Off to the chopping block. 

Fucking Hell.

Keith wanted to slam his hands down like the man across from him, who was still ranting about how the horse-thief was an ingrate or some bullshit. How were all just sitting there? Didn’t they realize how bad this was?

He was too mad to pay attention to the other captured persons, and instead turned to their destination. A wall was appearing between the trees. Imperial bows walked along the top of it. 

Helgen, of course. 

His head swam a little from trying to swivel his head around to see.

One of the guards walking beside his cart was quietly talking with the one driving it. “General Tullius has been waiting all morning. Do you think he’ll be annoyed we took this long? Or just glad we got that Stormcloak churl?” She spat on the ground.

The driver laughed. “I have no idea, but I’ll sure be glad to have this whole ordeal over and done with.”

Keith had to agree. It sure would be nice to survive, but after having been knocked out only to sit in this cart for hours being knocked around? Listening to these fools? He just wanted it done. It’s hard, vacillating between wanting to live and just wanting this miserable day to be over, however that happens.

In the distance, Keith heard someone call to General Tullius, and then the man himself called back. 

“Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh! Divines, please help me!” There was no helping any of them now, but Keith wasn’t about to say that. He was willing to let the horse thief beg. “This can’t be happening! This isn’t happening!”

“It is. It is, and Sovengarde awaits.” The man across from Keith looked up at the walls. “Helgen … I used to be sweet on a girl from here. I wonder if Velod is still making that mead with the juniper berries mixed in?”

Oh gods, not this. No, no, no! Not this!

Keith actually did smack a hand down, he didn’t want to hear this sappy bullshit. The surprised faces of his fellows were matched by his glare. Before he could say anything though or vomit because of the sudden motion, they were through the wall and the voices of villagers could be heard mixing with the guards’, catching everyone’s attention.

Children were being pulled back inside their homes. A captain had joined the first cart, and she was barking out orders to the guards walking the street. It almost looked like it could have been his hometown. Keith, if he could have, would have pinched himself. None of this sappy shit, please, he thought.

This was humiliating, being paraded through this town. But, Keith was also angry. He had nothing to do with these wolves! Stupid, fucking ambushes and stupid, fucking civil war. 

The captain had moved away from the first cart and was now just meandering in about the middle of this prisoner’s caravan. “Hurry up and get those prisoners out of the carts! General Tullius doesn’t have time for your lollygagging!”

Each one rounded the curve in Helgen's main road, and then came to a shuddering halt. Keith’s cart was last. He watched as a soldier with a clipboard and a charcoal stick walked to the back of each, calling out names and dragging the members out of the back to line up in front of a …

Shit.

He had known but this was … this was real now.

They were lining up in front of a chopping block.

The blood in Keith’s veins was boiling again, the futility of running away that had sunk in while they were being driven here vanished. He tried to focus his thoughts enough to work out some sort of plan, but the anger kept distracting him.

This was a terrible mistake and deity be damned he was going to die for some dumb mistake. Maybe if he waited until his name had been called, he might be able to surprise them and slip away? Or perhaps - Keith glanced around the open area they were in - actually that wouldn't work. No, there were too many guards with bows for him to be able to scale the walls. 

The thief had the same crazed look Keith worried was in his eyes. He started gesturing wildly between himself and Keith. “No! Wait! We’re not rebels!”

They were slowly being led off the cart, one at a time. The horse thief was struggling in the arms of a rather beefy Imperial. The man who had been across from Keith kicked the thief's leg, “Face your death with some courage, churl.”

“No!” He tried to kick back, but his guard held him fast. “You’ve got to tell them we weren’t with you! We weren’t!”

Keith himself was lead from the cart. The anger and the fear had glazed over now that he was standing. It was all just sort of … numb. In the back of his head, his consciousness was shouting, screaming at him to run, to move, to flee, something, anything. He shuffled to the back of the pack, feeling the head injury begin to weave threads of fatigue into his brain.

A woman from across the square, wearing a captain’s banner, raised a clipboard. “Step towards the block when we call your name!” She shouted.

The stormcloak man grit his teeth. “Imperials and their damn lists…” he muttered. The horse thief looked as frantic as Keith was feeling. Well, frantic and seriously concussed. All this shouting was like axe swings.

“Jarl Ulfric of Windhelm,” the guard beside the captain shouted.

Jarl Fucking Ulfric stepped forward and the stormcloak called out to him. “It’s been an honour, Jarl Ulfric.”

He just grunted in response. That made sense, his mouth was covered, but Keith probably would have hoped for more if he had been in the underling’s place.

“Rolaf of Riverwood.” The guard yelled again, and the stormcloak underling stepped forward. He thrust his chin forward, determined to take his own advice. Keith stopped trying to count the guards in the square and the number of weapons to give a moment of admiration to the man - Rolaf. That took stones.

The guards called a few more names, and persons from other carts nearby stepped forward. There were approximately 52 guards, 45 with visible weapons, but the remaining ones no doubt had hidden swords. His eyes were swimming and they were moving too much for him to be completely sure. If he could catch them at a distracted moment, maybe he would have time to get up the wall behind him. There were the bows to deal with, but as long as he was over the wall, there’d be a higher chance of him surviving. Still shit odds, but a one in five chance is better than a one in ten, twenty, more.

“Lokir of Rorikstead,” The guard shouted. The horse-thief’s skin turned as pale as the clouds above.

For a moment, Keith considered using whatever this fool was planning as a distraction, but…

“No! I’m not a rebel! You can’t do this!” Lokir the thief screamed as he tried to sprint past the captain and her guards. A bow standing on the porch of the nearest house shot him in the stomach.

That was exactly what Keith was expecting. Of course the veikr couldn’t even do something that would take more than 5 seconds to deal with. 

Lokir was still crawling back the way the carts had come. “You can’t kill me!” He crowed, again and again. It sounded like he was coughing up blood with each word.

The Captain nodded to the bow nearest her, who turned and shot the thief again. This time he stopped moving. She sighed and went back to her list while the guards around her just shook their heads. Whether they had been expecting him to run or not, they were clearly disappointed in his ability as well. 

More names were called over the next ten minutes or so. The guard who had originally tried to hold Lokir back had moved to Keith’s side and was now gently keeping him upright. It wasn’t until they shook Keith slightly, he noticed that the names had stopped. The Captain and her guard were both looking at him. 

He looked back. 

The Captain was frowning.

He tried to frown back, but the world was spinning a little more.

“You there,” the Captain’s guard looked confused and pointed at him. “Step forward.”

Keith’s guard walked him forward.

“What’s your name?”

Should he answer? Keith couldn’t remember. The anger and the want to run were fading, and now he was just so tired. If he answered, would they let him sleep?

His guard shook him again. It made his brain  _ hurt _ . “Akira,” he managed to mumble out.

The Captain laughed harshly. “You’re Akira? You? Well, I’m sure every bandit camp in a week’s ride will thank us for capturing you.”

Her guard was shaking his head though. “Captain are you sure? He’s not on the list.”

“Forget the list,” she barked back. “He goes straight to the block.”

His head was pounding, and his hands were slowly getting numb. It was almost too much for Keith to hear the guard respond. “By your orders, Captain.” Keith couldn’t do much moving at this point, but his soul sank to hear that. The guard mumbled something about laying his body to rest, but the pain and despair had overtaken most other senses.

There was a brief respite where he could just stand and nobody tried to say anything before his guard walked him forward. In front of him, the shapes of the stormcloak underling - what was his name? - and Ulfric Stormcloak were also being moved. Someone wearing what looked like priest's robes was speaking loudly, but the words were far from Keith’s ears. Then a stormcloak rushed forward and yelled to “Get this over with”

The soldier rushed to the block and fell to his knees willingly. Curiosity welled up as Keith watched the soldier rush towards his death. “My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?” he called, just loud enough to be heard by Keith before the axe came down and the crowd broke out into yells.

The blood was red and although he couldn’t smell it himself, Keith felt a wash of disgust overtake him. There was more yelling behind him, and Keith’s guard tried to move him forward. That didn’t go over well with his stomach, and Keith fell to his knees to expel his stomach before being dragged back to his feet and marched forward.

He couldn’t focus, there was too much shouting, his head was pounding, why was he walking? Something forced him down to his knees and Keith felt a wave of relief, just to no longer be standing. 

A heavy boot landed on his back, forcing his neck into the still wet groove. He squished his eyes closed and tried to block out as much of the pain and the noise as possible.

_ Divines, keep Shiro safe for me. _

Keith blinked an eye open. His vision was swimming too much for him to make anything out, but, the shapes of people were flitting around. His ears were roaring. The boot on his back was gone, replaced with a hand, probably, pulling him upright again.

Somebody was shouting to him, pulling him along. The daytime sun suddenly disappeared, replaced by the coolness of shadow. He tried to focus his eyes on the form in front of him. 

It was obviously a person, someone wearing blue.  _ A stormcloak? ...what? _

His wrists, still loosely bound, were pulled forward and the cord cut. The roaring in his ears was still too loud for him to understand what was being said, but when he saw a flash of red and a liquid being poured into his mouth he knew what was coming.

He tried to swallow the warm but tasteless liquid as it was being poured out into his mouth. There was a fizzing sound and then his mouth felt almost uncomfortably warm. That heat spread down his throat, radiating out into his chest, and once the heat faded, so had his pain. Mostly. When he readjusted his eyes and tried to look around the room he was in, he found his head still pounded if he moved it too fast. That said, he could actually make out his surroundings, the lethargy and pain were almost completely gone. The roaring his ears, however, was very much still present.

“Are you back on your feet?” The hand that held the empty bottle was reaching out, empty, looking for a confirmation.

Keith could see the face of his current saviour, the stormcloak from earlier, Rolaf. The man gave Keith a small smile, weary and fearful of whatever was going on outside.

As soon as he saw that Keith was okay, he strode away to the side of … Yep, that’s Ulfric Stormcloak.

“Jarl Ulfric, what is that?” The man asked with only a  _ hint _ of terror. Keith followed to their side, looking out a nearby window in the stone room. The roar in his ears quieted, and the sound of shouts and explosion came back in full force. “Are the legends true?”

_ Legends? _ Keith wasn’t sure what that meant.

The man turned away from the window and gave Rolaf a steely gaze. “Legends,” he spat, “don’t burn down buildings.”

There was something between them that made Keith remember his own leader. Although he was confused about what was going on outside, it was too awkward for him to interrupt. He was almost grateful with the roaring returned, shaking the building to its core.

_ That’s not… it was just my ears, ringing, from the blow. Why is the room shaking? What could possibly be going on out there? _

Ulfric tossed a glance over his shoulder and out the window, before shouting to all nearby to get out of this room. Hearing his leader, Rolaf turned back to Keith and caught his attention. “Up through the tower, let’s go!”

Still confused, though undoubtedly less injured, Keith followed the stormcloak up the winding staircase. As soon as Keith came upon the middle rise, he saw Rolaf bending down to start moving rocks that were blocking the rest of the stairs. 

_ Where did those…? _

“Come on,” Rolaf shouted over his shoulder, “We just need to move the-”

There was the sound of stone scraping against stone, a screeching unlike anything other, and then the crackle of fire. 

“Get back!” It was shouted by everyone, to everyone else, and Keith finally saw what was attacking.

There, leaning in the hole it had just made in the side of the tower, was a dragon. Its skull was as big as a man’s torso, and its eyes shone in recognition as it ended it’s barrage of flames, and flew off to attack elsewhere. Through the flapping of wings, Keith could almost hear words.

Rolaf ran back across the room and leaned out the hole in the wall. “See that inn on the other side?” He turned back to catch the eyes of the crowd behind him. “Just jump through the roof and keep going.”

He pulled Keith’s arm forward and pushed him toward the opening before going to grab the next person behind him. “Go, I’ll follow when I can! Now jump!”

Keith, for once, did as he was told. 

Not quite sure of what he was trying to land on, the Inn was barely more than a skeleton full of burning rubble, Keith jumped. That split second of air time let him see all he wanted to of the dragon - huge, mighty, glistening in what was probably blood, and wreathed in flame.

The landing was rough, though that was to be expected. His ankle twinged and his throat immediately filled with smoke as he stood from his landing crouch. It was hard to see the way forward, but other people would be jumping down as well so he did his best to move forward. Keith followed the remains of the wall until the smoke dissipated enough for him to see.

There were no stairs, at least none that he could see. There was only open holes in the floorboards to the main level. Keith gulped a breath and jumped again. There was a voice outside, barely discernible above the screams of the injured, calling for survivors to run to him.

It was hard to make out perfectly, but Keith managed to find a gap in the broken down walls large enough to climb through in the direction of the voice. When his eyes cleared enough, he could see a small group of citizens and one of the Imperial guards. The guard was trying to pull a child out of the main road but the poor boy wouldn’t let go of the body of an older, likely dead, man.

There was a crashing sound and the ground shook, that fucking dragon had landed at the other end of the main road. The soldier picked the boy up and sprinted to the group calling “Get back! Get back!”

Again, there was a roaring call from the dragon, and then a blaze was streaking through the road. Just like before, Keith was sure he heard words in it though he still couldn’t understand them. Once the fire had subsided, and the dragon was off to destroy other parts of the town, the Imperial looked around at his motley crew.

“Gunner, take the boy,” he said while passing the child off, “Now everyone, stick near the walls. Take cover against them, don’t go inside any buildings. They might collapse on you. Anyone with an arm to fight and courage to swing it, with me!”

Before he could take off in the direction of the Dragon, he saw Keith lingering near the group.

“Still alive, prisoner? I didn’t think you’d make it with that head injury. If you want to stay that way, you’d better follow too.” With that, he turned and sprinted across the open street. Keith, along with a man and woman, followed behind. He didn’t share that look of anger and determination, he was just looking to survive. Keith figured he was better off with those who had swords and arrows than those who did not.

Once they had crossed the road, the group began to hug the walls of the city. They dashed under the overhanging stones, feeling them shake with every landing of the great beast, no matter how far away it was. Keith had moved forward to be just behind the Imperial as they were crossing behind the final home before the wall ended. It was too large to be a simple gap, so Keith assumed that this was the entrance to the keep, their destination.

“Careful now,” the Imperial called back to his followers, and Keith passed the message back. Just as they were about to exit the wall, the roaring grew louder, louder, too loud. It made his mostly healed head  _ pound _ . The roaring stopped, blessedly, but the crack of wings did not. Keith was pulled out of his wonder when the light was blocked from their small passage by the wall. He could see a massive foot land atop the main roof support of the house, another miss slightly and cause the wall to come tumbling down before it was fixed. 

For all that it was massive, dangerous, and legendary, Keith watched the actions in wonder, likening the beast to a bird. That was, at least, before it leaned it’s massive head down and spat fire across the wall. If it had looked even so much as an arms length further down, Keith was sure it would have seen them and this little party would be toast.

The great dragon finished spewing it’s fire and pushed itself back up into the air. The Imperial didn’t let the danger phase him, and the moment the dragon was gone, he was shooting for the group to follow as he darted through the remains of the house the dragon was on. Screams of the victims were dying down, replaced by war cries of the furious. Keith wasn’t sure if this was a good thing or a bad one.

As they rounded the street, Keith saw many  _ many _ Imperial Bows trying to shoot down the creature. As they pelted it with arrows, many exclaimed that it just  _ wouldn’t _ die. Others called that they should use everything they had. One or two shouted, “To the keep!” The Imperial just kept running. The other two followers, Keith noted, had help back, and joined the Imperial Bows. He decided not to take such a chance. 

The Imperial and Keith kept running up the road, through the entryway to the Keep. The destruction was worse here, bodies left behind and rubble everywhere. This was likely where the dragon had started its rampage. 

_ A Dragon… This legendary beast… At least I was right to believe they were still real. _

“Ralof! You traitor, out of our way!” The Imperial shouted at the form crawling out of a crack in Helgen’s inner walls. As it dislodged itself, Keith could see it was indeed the stormcloak underling who had helped only minutes ago. Had it really only been minutes? 

The Stormcloak pulled his hands into fists, slowly moving towards a stray axe lying by a burnt corpse. “We’re escaping Hadvar. You’re not stopping us this time!” He was preparing to battle it out with the Imperial (Hadvar?) despite there being, quite literally, bigger and more dangerous issues ahead.

Hadvar pulled his hip sword from its sheath. “Fine!” he returned. “I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde!”

_ Oh, you have to be kidding me _ , Keith thought. What utter childishness.

Right on time, the dragon circled back overhead. It shot a blast of flames right between the two men as if saying that now was not the time nor place. Keith watched as both men grit their teeth and put away their weapons. Each then sprinted towards an entrance to the keep and called for him to follow.

“Come on, with me! Akira!” Rolaf bellowed as he pulled open a sidedoor.

“Boy,” Hadvar shouted, “You know you need to follow me to stay alive!”

Keith looked between each of them. He didn’t support either side of this war. He supported the pitiful, the weak, the rebel, the angry, and the beaten. Sure that didn’t sound as cool as he pretended it was, but at least that meant he wasn’t killing innocents because his leader was mad at another leader. Keith  _ was  _ his own leader.

The dragon swooped across for another attack, before dropping to the ground at the far end of the Keep’s ruined courtyard. It pulled it’s head back and began to gather breath in that way Keith  _ knew _ meant it was going to spit something painful at him.

He tossed a glance towards the stormcloak who had helped to free him, but ran towards the Imperial. At least Hadvar wouldn’t be hurling insults and brandishing knives at him just because he wasn’t a Nord.

Keith just barely managed to slip past the heavy door before Hadvar slammed it shut. Through it, they could hear the mayhem continue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Fair warning for everyone. This fic was started before season 5 ended, and when I stopped working on it, the show was still in season 6. Season 6 was also more or less when I stopped actively watching new updates. I stopped watching all together in season 7. Did not watch season 8, and have no plans to. I've read most of the episode synopsis', episode wikis, and character wikis. I personally am not a fan of how the show progressed in the last few seasons and was exceptionally unhappy with how the ending of the show treated Allura and Lance in particular. (not even mad they had a forced date. why'd you kill off the only poc woman and then remove another from the 1 thing his character has deemed important: space flight)
> 
> Because of how i feel towards the end of the show, I'm not going to adjust my plan to really include too much of it? Characters will probably crop up bc i like using real ones before i have to start putting in OCs unless it's Really out there compared to a character's , you know, character. 
> 
> Also, more fair warning. I removed this fic originally bc i just stopped working on it. It can be hard to work on such a dedicated crossover when you're not engaging w either media source. I'm not going to promise this will be a quick thing! the slow to update tag is on here for a reason. I've got the first original 20k words, plus another 10 I've written since then but I'm honestly a pretty slow writer and have A Lot of other unfinished fics atm as well. No Hate if you read all of this and decide this fic isn't for you! 
> 
> Since I already have it, I'm going to post the second chapter sometime tomorrow. thanks for reading and until next time, Ily! Kiss
> 
> [come chat on Tumblr!](https://floralb0t.tumblr.com/?)


	2. Before the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First part of Keith's trip through Helgen's Keep. Serious Tw for violence, blood, gore

Hadvar slammed the door behind Keith, but didn’t lock it. Even as he strode away, opening chests and grabbing supplies, Hadvar still never completely turned away from that door.

“It seems like we’re the only ones who’ve made it. I see your hands are free, good. Take what weapons you can find and let’s get out of here,” he called as he grabbed a fresh sword and shield. Keith heard the unsaid “yet. The only ones who’ve made it yet.” He wasn’t sure how many people could survive a  _ dragon _ , but it was easier to be silent than to voice that thought. Hadvar wasn’t done chatting though. “Do you think that really was one of the bringers of the End-Times?”

Keith … well he was fairly certain it  _ was _ a dragon, but he wasn’t a nord. He wasn’t born in Skyrim.

Opening a handful of chests in what appeared to be the bunkroom, Keith found a pair of short swords and an extra set of imperial armour. The swords he took gratefully, but he hesitated with the armour. He wasn’t an Imperial soldier, elf blood or not. His own armour, ragged furs stolen off bandits he had targeted, was damaged beyond repair from his capture and the attack outside. The bloodsoaked and burnt chestpiece smelled terrible and he could probably get new ones pretty quickly. Sighing, Keith changed into the studded leather and red cloth. He also swiped a leather satchel and then filled it with small potions (and coin) that sat on the shelves above the beds. The swords were put into twin sheaths at each hip. 

“Ready to go? Good. Let’s get moving.” Hadvar gave him a look. “Are you really Akira?  _ The _ Akira?”

Keith brushed past him. That wasn’t a question that needed answering. He grabbed a shield from a stray table as he walked. Maybe if he got far enough ahead, Hadvar would give up the question in favour of not getting left behind.

“Fine, fine.” Hadvar eventually called as he caught up. “I can respect a man’s secrets. We should be careful though, Rolaf and his brethren in arms have probably gotten in as well.”

Keith nodded and dropped to a crouch in response. There was a slight clink of his armour hitting itself and the swords jangling in their sheaths. Hadvar’s boots were almost as quiet as Keith’s soft leather shoes on the stone floors. They were perhaps not as silent as Keith preferred, but still pretty damn muffled.

As they wandered through the hall they were in, Keith could still occasionally hear the screams and roars of the attack still going on outside. Other than that though, it was still fairly quiet. He listened and strained his ears to catch something. It took a moment, but then he heard what he was looking for. Footsteps. Chink of chainmail. Whispers.

Keith signalled to Hadvar to listen closely. After a moment, the soldier caught it too. Together, they crept towards the door to the room the sounds were coming from. The reached it to the sound of laughter. There were two voices, telling each other to keep moving. Apparently the dragon was wreaking havoc on the other wings of the keep. One asked for pause, and the other agreed, telling his partner to hurry.

Hadvar leaned towards Keith and whispered in a low voice, “Maybe we can reason with them?”

Keith pointed through the gaps in the iron door - the stormcloaks were wet with blood and standing over the body of an unlucky Imperial. There would be no talking today. Hadvar’s face went pale at the sight and put hands on his weapons.

Keith signaled to the soldier to pull the chain to drop the small portcullis, so he could rush in. Whether the man believed that he was Akira, fabled hunter of Bandits and giver to the poor, or not, Hadvar nodded ascent. At the same time, they counted down with fingers.

_ Three… _

_ Two… _

_ One… _

Hadvar slammed the chain down and the iron bars fell out of the way with a clashing sound. Keith gave it no pause and sprinted into the small circular room. The two Stormcloaks didn’t have their weapons drawn, but one was arm deep in the pockets of a dead Imperial soldier. The other was holding a dagger, wet with blood. It appeared that she was the one to make the kill.

He was silent, letting his twin swords do the talking, as he flashed them forward and dug one into the lower abdomen of the pocket-searching Stormcloak. Pulling it back, he twisted the blade and tried not to let it slide to the side. If it did, there was a chance the sword would get caught on the chainlinks he had broken during entry. His victim made a fairly substantial gurgling noise as blood began to pour out of their wound. The other dropped her dagger and was reaching for a war axe that was leaning against the wall.

Keith danced back and allowed her to pick up her new weapon. Her eyes flicked to her fallen comrade, coughing loudly as his lungs filled with blood. From his side, Hadvar rushed into the fray. Before she could turn to block with the small shield on her arm, Hadvar brought his greatsword down. For a moment, Keith could see the flash of white bone near her shoulder. This injury left her open for more though, and he swung from her other side.

It likely wasn’t enough to break the chainmail under her cloth outer layer, but Keith suspected it was enough to crack the ribs he had hit. The woman dropped to her knees and shouted for mercy. 

Hadvar lifted his heavy sword above his head and steadied his aim. “You cannot receive what you are not willing to give.”

Keith looked away at the last moment. He’d seen enough decapitations to know exactly how this scene would play out. Hadvar, Keith assumed, was just watching the body as he tried to steady his breathing again. This certainly wasn’t the man’s first kill, but that didn’t mean it would be any less emotional. Keith was more than willing to let him work through whatever feelings rose up, alone.

After a minute or so, when the roaring screams of the dragon grew closer and closer, Hadvar moved towards the only other door in the room. As he walked, his blade was still dripping. The sight made Keith a little squeamish, he preferred  _ not _ to kill things whenever possible. The soldier leaned down in front of the heavy wooden door and started fiddling with a key. 

“Let’s just see if I can get this damned thing open,” he mumbled.

Hadvar managed quickly enough, and within a handful of seconds, was through the doorway and shouting for Keith,  _ Akira _ , to keep moving. The continuous noises from outdoors made the stones in the walls and ceilings shake little handfuls of dirt and dust to the floor. They ran out, down a spiral staircase, and through a handful of thin halls before coming out to a wider, more well maintained area. Here, there was a damaged section of ceiling, continuously pouring dirt down like a screen.

Hadvar pointed to Keith when they reached it, there were more Stormcloaks on the other side. There was another roar from outside, almost as loud as it had been  _ while _ outside, and then the rest of the ceiling came down. Keith stumbled and nearly fell due to the sheer magnitude of quakes the dragon was causing. What had once been a light dusting of dirt was now an immovable wall of stone.

“Oh come on,” Hadvar moaned, “that dragon won’t give up! We’ll have to find a different way through.” 

Keith nodded and began to search. Although he didn’t really know what the hall had looked like before, he was sure there had to be something here. Otherwise Hadvar would be directing them in the opposite direction.

There were four doors left on this side of the rubble. Another was partially covered by a large chunk of ceiling. Keith wasn’t sure it would be moveable by just the two of them. If the gods had not abandoned them yet, then hopefully the exit would be through a different doorway. He and Hadvar threw open the four accessible doors and found small storerooms with no exits except for one. In it, was a small kitchen, that likely had another door at the far end. At least, Hadvar seemed to think so, as he lead Keith inside of it.

They entered into a small seating area, two tables with empty chairs in front of a fire and a raised longer table. Caught and cleaned animals were smoking in front of the fireplace. In the corner of his eye, around a corner, Keith spotted movement.

Hadvar had sprinted forward and was drawing his weapon when Keith noticed the Stormcloaks rummaging through barrels of potatoes and cabbages. He was already slicing through the first Stormcloak when Keith caught up 

Keith pulled out his twin blades and got to business. He and Hadvar made quick work of the assaulting Stormcloaks. Hadvar sneered over their bodies while Keith paused a moment. It wasn’t a prayer, he didn’t care  _ that _ much, but these were people with families and homes. Probably. Besides, at least one of them should feel some remorse. Hadvar had left his upstairs, in the room with his ambushed brethren.

Hadvar stood and wiped his greatsword on a now lifeless body. “This section is an older storage room. See if you can find anything useful.”

There were some barrels, bags, and baskets. Most had nothing but cobwebs and a few stray potatoes beginning to seed. In one bag, high on a shelf, Keith found two health potions, a magicka potion, and a stamina potion. Back in the main room, behind the raised table on more shelves, he found another health potion. There was also a hunk of hard bread and a handful of apples. 

Keith did his best to ignore the bodies cooling only 20 feet away and scarfed down the bread and two apples. His stomach wasn’t particularly happy, but Keith knew he’d need the energy from real food as soon as the remains of the potion he’d drank earlier worked its way out of his system.

As he made his way back to Hadvar, the Imperial called out to him. “Are you done, Akira? Come this way!” The older man opened the door in the storage section and slipped through it. A moment later, Keith did the same.

The door had opened on another hallway. It was not the main door to this hall, as Keith saw other doors, but due to various collapses, it looked to be the only working exit. Hadvar slowed as Keith caught up and examined his surroundings. It took a moment or two, but then he seemed to gain his bearings. Hadvar’s face grew strained as he led Keith down the slope of the hall. As they both rounded a corner at the end of it, Keith saw they opened on a large room with several small cages and various weapons lining the walls.

Hadvar grit his teeth. “The torture rooms… Gods, I wish we didn’t need these.”

Keith nodded. He wished that torture rooms weren’t used as well. 

As they walked through the doorway, the sound of sudden lightning struck Keith’s ears and his eyes frantically scanned the area. In a corner, there was a Stormcloak fighting an Imperial with small weapons. Nearer to Keith and his guide, was the torturer, a man in a long black robe, striking another Stormcloak using spellcasting.

As soon as they were noticed, Hadvar dived into the fray and Keith joined soon after. The three Imperial soldiers and Keith made quick work of the intruders, but one still managed to get a good hit on Keith and the non-cloaked Imperial. It had been a downward slash on his shoulder that didn’t break the chainmail, but definitely split the leather over top. It was probably bruising already and would certainly limit the usage of his right arm.

Keith was quietly inspecting the damage while Hadvar spoke to his peers. The Imperial not in the cloak held out an arm and grasped Hadvar in greeting while the actual torturer began to pace the room.

“You fellows happened along at just the right time.” He commented. “These kids seemed a little upset at how I’d been treating their comrades.”

Hadvar broke off his handshake and went to the cloaked man. “Don’t you know what is going on outside? A  _ dragon _ is attacking Helgen. What are you still doing down here?”

The non-cloaked one, an assistant probably, stopped his retreat towards the caged in counters to watch Hadvar. His eyes were squinting in what Keith thought was disbelief.

The torturer laughed. “A Dragon? Please. Don’t make up such nonsense.”

Keith felt terribly out of place and crossed the room to stand beside Hadvar. This was awkward on all levels, especially with the twinges of pain and anxiety the battle in here and the battles above had caused. The assistant was still watching them as he returned to his post. That didn’t ease any nerves either.

“Come to think of it,” the torturer started as he paced towards the cages of the room, “I did hear some odd noises coming from over that way.” As soon as he finished, he grunted and bent down. The old man was going through the pockets of the still warm dead. Their blood was still spreading underneath them.

Keith had seen this scene a hundred times and it still made him a little ill. It was probably the smell that got him.

Hadvar stepped toward the old man with a pleading face. “Come with us. We all need to get out of here.”

“You have no authority over me, boy,” the man sneered from above the group’s victims. “I am perfectly safe here.”

From behind the counter and it’s protective cage, the assistant scoffed. He sighed and grabbed a mace from the wall that hadn’t been touched in the battle before. “Forget the old man, Hadvar. I’ll go with you.”

Hadvar nodded at the assistant, and took another step towards the torturer. He probably had it in his mind to try and convince him again, but stopped when he saw what was in the cages. Keith had been ignoring them for his own sake, but followed Hadvar now to get a better look. In the middle cage was the body of a breton in decent enough clothing along with an empty bottle of stamina, a few stray golden septums, and a spellbook. No doubt there were similar items on the man’s body as well. 

“Wait a second,” Hadvar turned and called to the assistant. “There's a spellbook in that cage. May I have it?”

The torturer looked up from his grisly endeavour curiously, but sighed when he saw what Hadvar was talking about. “Don’t bother with that, I lost the key ages ago… Poor fellow screamed for weeks and weeks.”

The assistant ignored his irate master and just shrugged. Hadvar grinned slightly and turned to Keith.

“See if you can get this open.” He passed Keith a single lockpick. “We’ll need everything we can get.”

Keith took the lockpick but scowelled. Sure, he could probably do it, but a single, solitary lockpick? Who was going to use this spellbook anyways? Keith sure as hell couldn’t.

Glaring over his shoulder at Hadvar and the assistant, Keith bent down and got to work. It took him a moment, the slight fuzz in the back of his skull and the aching shoulder didn’t help. He did manage without making a mess or a fool of himself, but the lockpick looked cracked and he doubted it would work again.

As Keith swung the door open to grab the spellbook, Hadvar cheered quietly and the torturer bemoaned the loss of “all of his things”. The book was for the casting of “Spark”, the lightning based magic that the torturer had been using earlier. Keith peeked in the first page, but quickly closed it and tried to pass it off to Hadvar. Both him and the other Imperial refused to take it though, so Keith just shoved it in the small pack on his belt. It barely fit, but the clasp still managed to close.

While he was there, Keith swiped the few septums sitting by the body and left the poor dead to their fate. Hadvar called over to grab whatever he could from the room and then follow. Keith didn’t think there would be anything else, but gave it one more once over. There was another small health potion on a table in the corner, which he did grab, but nothing else. 

Hadvar and the Assistant had headed towards a small hall on the other side of the room, lined with cells with skeletons inside. Keith gave the torturer one last glare before heading out to follow.

“There’s no way out that way, you know!” The torturer called out after them, chuckling.

Keith, for just a moment, hoped the dragon managed to catch this asshole.

There were a few more hallways, downward staircases, and more cages and bodies in various stages of decay. Keith held his gag reflex down, he’d seen things like this plenty of times, but that didn’t make it much better. Hadvar followed the assistant and Keith followed Hadvar as they went down and down. Finally, when the sounds of everything other than their own footsteps was gone, the assistant slowed and pointed to a large hole in a bricked wall.

“Here we are, I had almost forgotten about this.” Hadvar peek through the large person-sized hole and then turned back. “Come on, let’s go.”

The hewn stone of the Keep had turned into the stone of a cave. Moss and mushrooms were growing on the gravel and dirt floor. Every twenty feet or so, there was a brazer giving off soft light. The first few had a few flames left, but as they went further and further, they were reduced to embers. As they passed one that was almost completely put out, the assistant started grumbling. 

“Hadvar,” he started, “Are you sure about this? I thought this cave would have ended by now.”

Hadvar slowed and turned back to Keith and the assistant.”It ends up ahead. This is a collapsed bit, so it’s very very old. It wouldn’t surprise me if there are Stormcloaks down here.”

Keith wasn’t sure why  _ anyone _ would be down here, but he kept his mouth shut.

Hadvar nodded at his two followers and then continued through the cave’s thin passageway. At this slower pace, the group could hear more sounds coming from up ahead.

Just as Hadvar had guessed, there were quiet voices and footsteps. The three of them exchanged looks and snuck forward. The cave’s passage narrowed to the width of a man. Hadvar pulled his arms in close, and the assistant had to turn to his side. Keith was fine, more or less. A perk of being slight, he supposed. As they moved through it, the noises grew louder and louder. There was also light rushing water. If it wasn’t for the threat of swords and axes, he’d almost call it peaceful.

Keith was at the back of the lineup, and as such, wasn’t quite prepared for Hadvar to scream out “For the Empire!” as he dashed forward. The assistant gave a wordless war cry and also ran out. Keith had a single moment of peace before he saw the mess ahead of him.

The room was dank and expansive, with some sort of water stream down the middle. Hadvar was sword deep in, surprise surprise, a Stormcloak and the assistant was bashing down on the head of Hadvar’s victim. Across the room, there was at least one more Stormcloak with a bow. They were in the middle of nocking an arrow when Keith noticed them.

The platform Keith and his crew were on was separated by the water, and there didn’t seem to be any other way across than the bridge Hadvar’s Stormcloak was on. The Imperial pulled his sword out of the poor woman and kicked her off the small bridge. From the side where Keith had seen the archer came two more enemy soldiers. They hefted themselves over the edge and joined the fray.

Keith pulled out his twin swords and dashed toward the closest one. She carried a war hammer and pushed it in front of her as a block as soon as she noticed Keith. In response, he slashed at one of her hands, trying to nick the fingers holding her weapon. Not exactly the cleanest move, but certainly effective. With his second attempt, he managed to hit the top hand, going through her leather gauntlet. She gave a roar of pain and used her lower hand to swing the hammer.

In her pain, she didn’t make a direct hit, but the blow still knocked Keith back a foot. For a moment he was worried he’d run into Hadvar or the assistant that he knew was still behind him. Keith hunched down and caught his breath before rushing forward. His opponent was raising her warhammer, and if he was quick enough, he could get a strike in. She gave a cry of anger lifted it above her head.

Keith sprinted the three steps to be back within sword range and swung with his right sword. If this was the Stormcloak’s regular weapon, then that would explain why she easily predicted the attack. Keith wasn’t able to pull back before her hammer was coming down. Although he was too close to be hit by the heavy metal head, his arm was still whapped by the wooden handle. That said, the metal head of the hammer was very,  _ very _ close to his own and again Keith jumped back out of reach.

He wasn’t expecting this Stormcloak to be so experienced with the heavy weaponry, not many people are. Keith didn’t think he could summon up the speed to take her out before it got rough. 

The woman smirked at him through her own pain. She hefted the hammer up onto her shoulder and the smirk turned into a sneer. “Not so tough are you now, Elf-boy?”

Well that, that was just rude. Keith felt a new wave of strength and speed and let it out in a forward charge. It might damage his swords, but Keith was a little too angry to care as he stabbed them into her chest. There was a terrible shout echoing the room as she began to cough red. It took a moment for him to recognize it as his own.

Keith pulled back and tried to catch his breath, his own chest heaving. “Plenty tough.” He spat at the deadly injured woman who was just barely breathing. In a fit of still palpable anger, he kicked her over the side of the platform. “Plenty fucking tough.”

Still on the same platform, Hadvar was finishing off his own opponent and the torturer’s assistant was cradling a hand while his mace sat bloody and embedded in the head of another Stormcloak. 

Across the bridge, on the other platform, Keith knew there was a Bow and as he turned to go chase them down, he felt a dull thud in his shoulder. As he moved his head to look for the offending object, the dullness exploded into brilliant white hot pain.

There was an arrow dug a few inches deep into his shoulder, still wobbling from the force of the impact. The pain and the impact forced him to a knee and knocked the breath from his lungs. Through the pain he could almost feel the wet sticky mess of blood behaving to spill down his arm under his borrowed armour. Keith sucked in a breath and tried to bite back the pain. It took a moment for him to focus enough to move, but as soon as he could, hi reached the opposite arm up and snapped the arrow. 

Just touching the protruding weapon made his body shake, but Keith felt it would be easier to move without the huge stick poking out of his arm. As soon as it was dealt with, he reached his left hand into the pouch at his hip and grabbed one of the remaining health potions. Drinking too much would make the wound seal around the arrow, but leaving it untreated would leave him useless against the remaining archers. 

Hadvar sprinted past Keith as he fumbled the cap of the potion off and lept into close combat with one of the archers. It took a moment, but Keith managed to take a swig and replace the cap, before he too turned and did his best to rush the Stormcloaks. He let the pleasant warmth carry his feet across the small bridge and into position beside Hadvar. Keith’s right arm was more or less useless, his shoulder’s hot pain had turned to a dull ache, but he could still do little more than just keep his sword in his hand.

The Bow Hadvar had lept at with his greatsword responded by trying to bash the Imperial with his bow. Shooting was useless at this range, but Hadvar was moving too fast to let the other man reach for a close range weapon without dropping his guard. Keith considered that as he sprinted past the current skirmish to meet the other archer. This side of the cavernous room was closer to the small stream of water that flowed through it and it made the floor slick. Keith did his best to compensate but noticed that each step still slid forward slightly further than he was expecting as he ran towards his opponent.

A split second decision had him trying to use that to his advantage and he stopped actually running a few paces early. The momentum continued to propel him to just within jabbing distance. The archer was already in the process of pulling out what appeared to be a dagger as Keith raised his left arm and japped the blade into the Archer's shoulder. Just as he had hoped, they stumbled back a step, and slipped. Before the archer could catch themself, Keith darted forward and slashed at his opponent’s arms. It quickly turned into him standing over the archer trying to stop their movements as they kicked and smashed at his legs.

Each kick that connected with his legs brought him closer to falling over as well. One particularly solid one shook him so terribly that the sword dropped from his limp right arm and clattered loudly on the ground. Something like hope flashed in the archer’s eyes and Keith let out a dismayed noise. 

With one last burst of speed, he tried to take advantage of their new hope and bury his remaining sword in their neck before he could be taken down any further. The burst of blood and spit that his opponent coughed out as his airway was severed was disgusting. It took all of Keith’s concentration not to let that be the thing that sent his stomach back up his throat, though it came close.

The archer coughed again, and Keith was forced to watch with painful concentration as the hate in their eyes bled to nothing. This was never what he wanted. The last of his strength left him and Keith fell with a crash on top of the body. This was  _ never _ what he wanted. The urge to vomit fought against his will to just breathe. 

Behind him, the sounds of battle quieted, slowly, painfully slowly, and Keith did his best to let himself rest. As his panting turned back to regular laboured breathing, the room started to spin again. Keith forced his fingers to release their deathgrip on his remaining sword and scramble for the partial healing potion he’d stuffed in his bag. For a moment Keith worried that the blood covering his fingers would be too much and he wouldn’t be able to grab the bottle. 

True to his worry, it slipped around his bag, but he was able to get a grip on it and pulled it out. Instead of pulling the cork out and downing it now, he put the neck of the bottle in his mouth to hold it while he tried to grab what was left of the snapped arrow in his right arm. By now the sheer adrenaline rushing through his system left his arm almost numb, but the shock was messing with his mind. Keith took as deep a breath as he could manage before wrapping his slightly bloody hand around the wooden stub and pulling with all the strength he had left.

The scream he let out through gritted teeth echoed in the chamber. The pain had him doubled over, almost touching foreheads with his unfortunate opponent. Keith forced himself to breathe, as deeply as he could through the pain without dropping the bottle still in his mouth. After a moment’s rest, Keith sat back up and reached his still shaking left arm up and grabbed the bottle while his teeth clasped on the cork. As soon as it was open, he poured all remaining liquid down his throat.

The warmth of the healing potion seeped through what felt like every pore. His breathing was easier, and the room stopped spinning. The blood still drying on his arm didn’t disappear, but he could feel the skin close over the open wound. Keith took another few seconds to just breathe and recollect himself before he slowly stood, retrieved his weapons, and turned to look at his companions.

Hadvar was bent down of the body of a fallen Stormcloak and the torturer’s assistant was in the middle of getting the torn remains of a glove off his hand. Neither looked like they had made it through the fight unharmed, but Hadvars eyes were still bright and his mouth smiling. The assistant on the other hand was obviously grimacing in pain. The Stormcloaks at their feet were both enemies and victims, but Keith wasn’t sure which label he preferred.

The only noises now were of him and his companions breathing, the small creek, and the assistant’s occasional groan as he inspected his damaged hand. Keith stood slowly, making sure his legs were stable, and began to head toward the pair. As he was just about to the bridge, The assistant finished taking off the ruined remains of his glove and wiped off what he could of the blood the covered his flesh. It looked like his hand was likely going to need some healing for all the slashes on it, but the man turned to leave before Keith could even consider sharing his remaining potions. “I’ve gonna go back… Someone has to watch out for the old man!” He called as he turned towards the way they had come in.

“May the seven watch over  _ you _ !” Hadvar called in return.

Instead of chasing him down, Keith took stock of his armour one more time. The potion he downed had stopped the bleeding and reduced the arrow hole in his shoulder to an angry red scar, but the leather around it was ragged and damaged. The pauldrons on his shoulder were also heavily scratched. At least he didn’t need to worry about repairing this chestpiece, Keith would rather be captured  _ again  _ than wear Imperial armour for longer than necessary.

After a moment, he saw Hadvar also taking stock. They both nodded to each other and turned toward the opening and stairs on opposite the exit the assistant used. Hadvar kept turning back to look at him. “You know, whether you are him or not, you’re pretty good with those swords.”

Keith purposefully was a pace behind on the stairs so he could watch the older man. “... Thanks,” he mumbled. In case Hadvar hadn’t noticed, things weren’t going too hot for him throughout a good portion of that fight.

When they reached the top of the flight of stairs, they were faced with a set of wooden boards and lever to drop them. Hadvar gave it a smirk before turning back to Keith. “Let’s see where this goes, shall we?”

For a moment, Keith was almost confused at how peppy his companion was, but it made sense when he thought about it. Elation at making it out alive, pride for defending his ideals, and probably a true nord’s love of battle. Or something to that effect. Keith nodded to Hadvar to hit the lever.

It took a few seconds, but then a mechanism shuddered and the wooden boards in front of them fell forward, creating a path. The stone hall continued past the small wooden bridge, leading into a much larger cavern with more stone stairs and what looked like the rest of that stream. Hadvar took a cautious step on the planks before nodding at crossing. They creaked slightly, but held up well. Keith didn’t bother to stop and test them, confident that his lower weight would be fine.This new room was empty, but both of them still were taking it slow. There was no telling just what would be in these tunnels.

As Keith and Hadvar started to descend the steps, there was a rumbling. It felt for a moment like the whole earth was shaking, but then the echoing sound of that cursed dragon roaring filled their ears. The shaking intensified and Keith dropped to his knees for better balance. Beside him, Hadvar stumbled, and behind them both, the boards that supported their crossing were crushed by falling rocks. Once the roaring and the shaking stopped, Hadvar pulled himself back up and went back to inspect the rubble.

He leaned in and tried to give a rock a shove, disappointed when it did not budge. “Damn it.” he sighed, “looks like there is no going back that way.”

“I guess we should be glad that it didn’t come down on top of us,” Keith offered up as he stood. 

Hadvar gave a different rock a shove but again to no avail. “Well, we’d better push on. I’m sure the others will find a different way out.”

Keith nodded, and waited until Hadvar passed him going back down to follow behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i broke up these chapters initially to keep things around an even 5k words. Looking back, it means that the plot starts off moving very slowly haha. Even now I tend to get rambly and things can go on forever. that said, I do Like what I wrote before so I honestly haven't edited the first four chapters beyond fixing a little grammar. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! see you next time, kiss!
> 
> [come chat on Tumblr!](https://floralb0t.tumblr.com/?)


	3. Get Outfitted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second half of Keith's trip through Helgen Keep! mostly exposition nd spiders. If you've played Skyrim at all ever this will be all too familiar.

This room had little more than another underground stream. In one corner was a skeletal body, beside which Keith found 10 coins. On one hand, he wanted to at least leave the body what few goods it had out of respect, but on the other hand, when the Imperials took his stuff, they took  _ all  _ his stuff. A little cash would go a long way later. Hadvar called after him to “keep up” and then propelled him through another cramped passage, this one with water rushing by their feet.

After a few minutes, they left that passage and broke off for a different, dry one. From this one, they passed another empty, totally dry brazier, bleached remains, and a small satchel Keith swiped containing 11 gold and a hawk claw. It was a start at least. He had a stache, somewhere near Falkreath, that he could use to replenish his stores.

Keith whispered a quiet word of thanks towards the skeletal body who had held it and then dashed off towards Hadvar. The older man was getting further ahead, discovering stranger and stranger parts of the cave. But someone had surely been down here before, of course. No matter whether the braziers were lit or not, Hadvar was not sneaking them out of his pockets right now. There must have been a second exit at some point.

Hadvar was just slowing down as Keith fell into step behind him. In front of the pair was a large, vaulting room, covered in cobwebs. Dragons were obviously much worse than spiders, of course, but at this moment Keith felt that opinion wavering slightly. Hadvar leaned back and gave Keith a look that seemed to have the same opinion.

Neither of them moved further forward. But Keith knew that they couldn’t go back. He sighed and pulled one sword from its sheath as he shouldered past Hadvar. The older man breathed a noise of surprise, and it was Keith’s turn to look over his shoulder. 

“Spiders don’t breathe fire,” Keith muttered and stepped into the vaulted cave. The first of the spiders awoke with a hiss. It was small, for a cave spider, only about the size of Keith’s torso. He pulled out his second sword and used that one to impale the spider on the ground. It continued its half purr/half hiss noises and slowly died.

Leaving that sword there, for now, Keith tossed his remaining weapon between his hands a few times. The next spider that was approaching was again of the same smaller size, and Keith wasn’t quite sure how to attack this one. As he walked, though, it sprang at him and Keith supposed that answered that question. As it was in the air, he angled the sword, in his left hand currently, so it would pierce the oversized arachnid and then flicked the blade so it would come unstuck. He then reached forward and slashed as much of the thing’s face as he could see. 

Behind him, Hadvar had finally woken up and Keith could hear the man shouting as he was swinging at undoubtedly more spiders. There was a moment where Keith considered letting Hadvar finish the job, but again, he was interrupted by an incoming enemy. This one, much larger, was skittering and chittering in the uncomfortable way that Keith was fairly certain meant it was going to spit venom. 

The sword was switched back to his right hand so that Keith could dash and slide under the repulsive thing’s body as it reared up to shoot. The ground beneath him was slick with sweat or webbing and Keith was able to glide before his foot hit a rock and he used the change in momentum to propel himself up. As his body shot up, he turned his torso to angle the remaining sword up and cut into the giant spider. 

There was a terrible  _ gushing _ noise as it’s spider thread began to spill out in the gaps of its skin. Keith adjusted his grip on the sword and scrambled back to avoid the silk sac’s ick. Around the slowly stilling form of the giant spider, Keith could see Hadvar still waving his axe wildly, trying to cut off the legs of a small spider. The man was still screaming. Keith shook his head and took a breath to steady himself. As he moved around the larger spider and stuck his sword into it one more time for good measure, he felt himself almost chortle.

It was just such a silly sight, a grown-ass man screaming as he tried to not touch but still kill some spiders only about the size of his head. This was only compounded by the lingering tingles of the health potions he had drunk today and the potential of a remaining head injury. By the time Hadvar finished this, Keith had made his way back to the first spider he fought to retrieve his second sword. 

When he noticed that Keith was fine, Hadvar tried to wipe off all the dust and spider bits that clung to him, and coughed, obviously embarrassed. “That wasn’t too bad. But it makes a man wonder, what’s next? Giant snakes?”

Keith shook his head at the sight and knelt near the small body he had just pulled his sword from. It was absolutely ridiculous that such a man could act so childish. Had he not been remorselessly killing Stormcloaks not even an hour ago? What fool could switch tracks so easily? Despite being an Imperial soldier, this man was a true Nord, Keith decided. While he was musing, Keith inspected the mouth of the spider. Its antennae were still twitching slightly, which was certainly gross, but he didn’t let that bother him.

He no longer had the usual small vials he would use, but Keith still had the empty bottle from the health potion he had drunk earlier. Taking that in careful hands, Keith did his best to milk what little venom was available off the tiny fangs before standing and moving over to the much larger spider he had also taken care of. Dead creatures do not give as much venom as still living ones, but he hoped that he might get enough to fill the vial.

Hadvar was in the background, kicking up dust and looking around the room, but Keith paid him no mind as he worked. The twitching in the mouth of this creature was much more disconcerting, though the gaping wounds he had left in it were reassuring of its death. Keith’s skilled hands were squeezing and massaging both the small glands he knew were along the face and shifting the phylactery to best catch the venom. He didn’t have much use for it beyond tipping his swords if he was in a particularly damaging mood. Instead, Keith would attempt to sell it, the next chance he could.

As he was just finishing up, grabbing the stopper for the vial, Hadvar shouted from somewhere off to his side. “Let’s go, boy! We’ve got places to be and dragons to outrun!”

The sudden sound made Keith jump, spilling a little of the venom onto himself, and he hissed as the liquid found its way into a small cut or two on his hand. Quickly, he sealed the vial and shoved it in his pouch before wiping what was left on his hand off and stalking up to Hadvar. 

The older man chuckled at Keith’s scowl and just pointed over his shoulder at the continuing tunnel behind him. “Don’t scowl so hard Akira, or your face will be stuck that way.” His eyes had a strange look to them and Keith just sighed and followed as Hadvar quickly turned to walk away. 

This tunnel was much like the ones they had gone through before. It was slightly wider, and a little lower, which lead Keith to assume that this was likely used by the spiders and not humans. The dirt around them was thick and stiff, probably quite sturdy. At least, it was thick enough that Keith could no longer hear the dragon ravaging what was left of Helgen. He tried not to think of those who were still in the town, hoping that he and Hadvar weren’t the only ones to escape. As they progressed, the ceiling got lower and lower, and what little hope Keith had that they would be able to escape this way began to wane. 

By the time he began to question his willingness to trust Hadvar in taking these tunnels, it opened into another large cavern. This one had another stream in it, gushing quietly through the rather long space. Keith was forced to reevaluate his opinion on whether humans used the tunnel or not when he notice the uneven rock and dirt floor was now occasionally inlaid with cobble bricks. Up ahead, perhaps halfway through the large cavern was what looked like a pull wagon, lying on its side. Still, though, it looked mostly undisturbed for many years.

Keith continued to walk behind Hadvar as they entered the cavern proper and came upon the wagon. Just as he had suspected, the wood looked so old it was too rotted to move from the damp in the air. In it was a bucket containing the putrid remains of some sort of biological matter, perhaps a food item or two, as well as a shitty longbow. Whatever varnish had been put on the wood had kept it from rotting like the wagon, but the drawstring on it looked loose. Keith was about to ask Hadvar if he wanted to take it when the older man gripped his shoulder, hard, and pointed further ahead. 

Past them both, underneath a handful of what had to be holes to the surface, was a large sleeping form. Hadvar’s hand stayed on his shoulder and forced Keith into a crouch. “Hold up,” he whispered to Keith as they watched the form. “See that bear? I’d rather not tangle with her right now.”

Keith nodded. They had just gotten out of what was likely the most dangerous situation possible. Why force themselves into a different one? Before he could respond vocally though, Hadvar continued.

“We should be able to sneak right by if you take it nice and slow. But, if you’re feeling lucky, Akira, grab that bow.” The Imperial nodded to the wagon before catching Keith’s eye and shrugging. “We might be able to get her by surprise.”

Keith considered it for a moment and shuffled slightly so he could grab the shitty bow and the handful of arrows slightly under it. Hadvar watching this and began to reach for his greatsword before Keith stopped him with a shake of his head. “Not worth it. An extra weapon might be though.”

Hadvar nodded at that and took a step back from Keith. “I’ll follow your lead, and watch your back.”

That made him pause. Why on earth would Hadvar trust his choices? Here was a grown man who had managed to keep his wits in a dragon attack, stepping aside to let a young bandit-chaser such as himself take the lead? Keith raised a hand to feel the hole punched into his right shoulder armour and rubbed the fresh scar tissue that resided there. 

No matter Hadvar’s reasons, Keith decided to take advantage of the situation and not try to push himself into that fighting Nord's lifestyle. “We sneak.”

Hadvar again nodded and gestured for Keith to take the first steps. Keith, in turn, slung the badly time-aged bow across his chest and shoved the arrow's tip down into his pouch. The fletching was already damaged so he didn’t worry about how much worse this would make it. After that moment to readjust, Keith started his slow creeping along the wall of the cavern.

His soft leather shoes kept the sounds of his steps near silent, but his swords on his hips were still clinking slightly. Hadvar was quite obviously doing his best to also be stealthy, but just as before, his feet were not as skilled and there was the occasional grunt or clang from him. As they progressed, Keith noticed that the dirt and stones were becoming more filled with broken bones and scraps of fabric or amour. The realization that many people had at least found their final resting place here made his head swim and he stumbled.

Hadvar grabbed his arm and pulled him back at the last moment. “Easy does it now,” he whispered. “We’re almost through.”

Keith nodded again and continued his pace through the cave. The bear kept it’s silent sleep as they passed it by, thankfully. As he kept going, Keith noticed a large patch of sunlight on the cave floor. He headed towards it, hoping it would be near the exit. As they approached, Hadvar kept flicking his eyes over his shoulder, and when they reached it, he stood from his crouch. The older man paused in the sunlight to look back into the cave, glance down at the bones littering the dirt floor, and pushed past Keith to continue through what looked to be yet another tunnel. 

The air here was much fresher than it had been anywhere else, and Keith was glad for the change it provided. He stood from his crouch as well and glanced back over his shoulder once more. The sleeping bear was now behind a screen of rock, thankfully. So much danger in one day, how ridiculous. 

At least his head wasn’t concussed anymore. Could only go up from where it had started this morning when he woke up in Imperial hands. It was his stupid idea to camp so close to the stormcloaks. Who cares about whether the mountain wolves will get into the food when you camp close enough that Imperials lump you all together?

“Hey, it was close, but we made it okay.” Hadvar’s hand had clamped down on Keith’s sore shoulder, shaking him out of it. Was he doing that again? Whatever it was supposed to mean, Keith shrugged it off as well as the hand and pushed past Hadvar to get into the tunnel. His want to get out alive was beginning to give way back to the cynical nature that kept him away from most people.

Keith didn’t bother to wait for his companion as he trudged through what he hoped would be his last tunnel of the day. Soon after he heard the sound of footsteps crunching in the dirt, trying to catch up to his own. The stone-and-dirt ceiling was much higher here, though that might have just been from the floor which continued to drop at a steady pace. This tunnel was beginning to look like a miniature cavern, when it turned sharply to the left and Keith turned it to find a breeze blowing warm snow and crisp sunlight into his face. 

Hadvar came up behind him and tried his best to stand side-by-side to Keith. He had a huge grin on his face, and it wormed its way into his speech when he sighed, relieved. “Finally, a way out. I was beginning to wonder if we’d ever make it.”

Keith did his best to keep his relief to himself as he started walking again until they were both outside this too-long and too-enemy-filled cave. As soon as the sunlight was warming his whole body, the smell of wet grass and pine filling his nose, then Keith let himself breathe easy. 

Hadvar stretched and breathed deep as he exited the cave behind Keith, before getting a look of fear on his face and dropping to a crouch again, hiding behind a large rock nearby the road. Keith quickly followed suit and together, they searched the skies for the quickly moving dot of the dragon. From far to the west they heard it’s distant call, and it continued to fly further away, becoming a small speck, and then an invisible worry on the horizon.

As soon as it was gone, Hadvar stood and turned to face Keith, who stood as well. 

“It looks like he’s gone for good this time.” They both flicked a glance to the east before returning to eye contact. “I don’t want to wait around and find out, and I doubt you do as well. The closest town from here is Riverwood.” Hadvar turned away and pointed to what Keith was pretty sure was the north. As he turned, he started walking and Keith waited for only a beat before following. “My uncle’s the blacksmith there, and I’m sure he’d help you out.”

Keith nodded and turned around as he walked, trying to place himself in the fauna. “We’d probably catch it’s attention less if we split up,” Keith said quietly, as he turned back to the foot trail he and Hadvar were walking down. “If it comes back, I mean.”

Hadvar slowed his step for a moment and turned back to Keith. “I probably wouldn’t have made it out without your help today, Akira. Good luck.” He went back to the trail and picked up his pace, his head turning to shout back over his shoulder. “I hope to hear tell of you in Riverwood!”

Keith slowed to a stop as he watched Hadvar jog down the path, away from Helgen and perhaps, to Riverwood. Did he really want to head that way? Sure he was stuck in Imperial clothes, but surely, Keith would be able to get himself out of them and back into his regular habits on his own.

But, Keith was planning on heading towards Whiterun anyways, and Riverwood was the only stop on the way. His closest hidden storage place was out in the west of Falkreath Hold, which also happened to be the direction that huge awful dragon had been flying. Besides, Shiro was in Whiterun, last anyone he knew had heard. 

Keith sat down on the grass beside the road and peeled what he could of the armour off himself. Once it was off, he took out one his stolen imperial swords and used those to cut as much of its red cloth out as he could. If he was going to have to walk into a town in this shit, Keith was sure as shit going to do his best to look as little like a soldier as possible. Even if it had him looking like some sort of battle uncertain fool, some Nordic Milk Drinker, Keith was not going to wear the clearly Imperial armour into Riverwood. Once he was satisfied with it looking like a piece of shit that nobody would give him a second glance for replacing it, Keith returned the armour to his person and stood up again.

He decided not to walk along the trail, out of old habits. Keith kept it within eyesight though and kept himself oriented with the old ruins to the far north. As he walked, Keith replayed the sight of the dragon over and over again in his mind. Idly, he swiped a few snowberries off a bush as he passed it. The thing was huge, more massive than any living or breathing thing Keith had ever seen. Even the glimpses he’d had of giants as he ran through the woods did not seem to compare in size to this huge thing. Its eyes seemed to be as big as a man’s head! 

That fucking horse thief, the one from the wagon ride into Helgen had been praying to the divines for something to come and help them escape and if this was the divine’s fucking special delivery to get at least some of them out then it was a fucking laugh. Keith did actually laugh, at the absurdity of it. What a dumb idea. He was not a veikr, and anyone who believed  _ that _ was. 

Still, though, he thought as he toyed with the uneaten berries to give his hands something to do, talk about a wild getaway. Shiro was  _ not _ going to believe this. Or worse yet, Shiro would believe it, and would finally find a way to talk Keith out of running around in a mask and beating on bandits on his own. 

_ “Think of the Dragons, Keith. Even the Akira of Legend can’t outrun a  _ dragon _ so it’d be better for you to stay home.”  _ or  _ “You know your father’s spirit would haunt us both if I let you die in such a dumb way.” _

Ugh. Keith shoved the rest of the berries in his mouth and chewed, annoyed at the voice in his head for making Shiro sound like that. Who cared in either case? Keith would cross that bridge when he came to it. As he stomped and chomped, Keith reached the edge of the snowy, grassy section he had been walking through and knelt to look over the ledge to the path below. He wasn’t sure which way would head towards Riverwood, so instead shrugged, climbed down skillfully and crossed the path to continue traipsing through the sparse woods instead of following any road.

As he walked, he stumbled across a hunting woman and her dog. Clearly, she had heard him long before she called out to him, based on her reaction. Keith brushed of her inquiries of “okayness” when he walked past, instead taking a moment to warn her away from Helgen for the time being. 

“What’s goin’ on in Helgen?” The woman, an older bosmer asked.

Keith looked back over his shoulder, in the direction where the dragon-caused fires of Helgen would no doubt still be burning. “Bad things. All sorts of bad things.”

She shrugged and called her dog back towards her. Keith asked if she had any spare meat and the hunter replied that she was out hunting to replenish. He sighed and thanked her, before continuing on in the forest. 

Picking more snowberries as he walked, Keith tried to feed a little more vigour into his step. The sun was beginning to slip further and further down the horizon and whatever traces of his concussion were lingering, had started to come back. Since this was the direction Keith had decided to head, he was committed to it now, and finding a bed for the night was his priority. As he walked, he occasionally had to give a good stretch and climb down a particularly bumpy and easy rock wall. By the time his feet were in the grass outside Riverwood, the sun was touching the horizon.

He was unconsciously inspecting the town walls, counting guards and weapons. By the time he noticed that this is what he was doing, Keith was fairly confident that there had not been a dragon attack here yet. Hopefully, it would stay that way long enough for him to get a full night's rest. As Keith started walking on the cobbled main road however, he overheard an older woman shout to presumably her son that she had seen a dragon. That son was condescending and turned away from her, and Keith did his best to spare neither of them more than a passing glance. It was interesting that she also said she saw the dragon flying west. 

Truth be told, however, the longness of the day was wearing on to the point where Keith just locked the information she said away, to deal with it once he had some time to recuperate. He paused for a moment, trying to remember all Hadvar had told him: that his uncle was the blacksmith, and, and, was there anything else? Did Keith get a name? Probably not, if he hadn’t remembered it yet. He sighed, continuing on the main road only a few steps before finding himself at the porch of the blacksmith’s. Nobody was out working the forge, but it was still glowing quite bright, a sign that it had been in use recently. Keith decided to do the next logical thing and knocked on the door of the connected home.

The door to the home opened almost immediately with a man probably just past his peak on the other side. Keith noted that this man looked strikingly similar to Hadvar if only 20 or so years older. He stood almost dumbfounded at the door, unable to say anything, why hadn’t he thought up something to say before knocking? Dumb, dumb, veikr Keith!

The man at the door also seemed to have no idea what to say, but finally, thankfully, he was pulled back by a familiar face. Hadvar was only a few inches shorter and had to put his arm well up to rest his hand on presumably his uncle’s shoulder. As soon as he had the older man out of the way, Hadvar brought his hands to Keith and grasped his right one in a tight shake. 

“Good to see you made it!” Hadvar said welcomingly as he stepped back into the space.

At this, the uncle unfroze and nodded as well, stepping back to encourage Keith to step into his home. While stepping back, the man glanced over his shoulder to someone further in, and called to them. “Sigrid! We’ve more company!” As he turned back to Keith, he also offered out a hand to shake and told Keith his name was Alvor. 

Keith stepped into the home, unsure of what to do next. Hadvar and his uncle both walked to a table just to the left of the door, nearly pushed up against the wall. A third chair was pulled out and Hadvar motioned for Keith to take it, but he refused. Instead, Keith stood at the end of the table. He didn’t know these people, even Hadvar who he trusted more than the rest. Standing in case he needed to make a run for it was much more his style.

Before either of the men sitting at the table could comment however, a Nordic looking woman came up from a set of stairs and rushed over to hug Hadvar. Although Keith hadn’t seen him on the road, he had to assume that the Imperial had only arrived minutes before Keith himself.

“Hadvar! We’ve been so worried about you!” The woman, likely Sigrid, pulled back from the hug and looked between Keith and Hadvar. “Sit, please! Get comfortable, I will get food for you both.” After this, she retreated back to the staircase, likely going down to grab something to eat as she had said.

Keith still remained standing but tried to “open up” his posture a little. It may be disconcerting, he figured, to have a strange half-elf in your main room, with used weapons and an angry glare. 

Perhaps in understanding, Alvor started speaking, retaining control of the situation. “Now then, what’s the big mystery? What are you two doing here, looking like you’ve had a bad run-in with a cave bear?”

Keith and Hadvar shared a short look before Hadvar turned back to his relative. “I don’t know where to start, Uncle.” He paused and stroked his chin. “You know I was stationed with General Tullius’ guard. We were stopped in Helgen when we were attacked,” Hadvar paused to share another glance with Keith, “by a dragon.”

The yet older man barked out a laugh and slapped the table. “A dragon! That’s ridiculous!” He continued to laugh for a moment before picking up on Keith and Hadvar’s stoicism. “... you’re not drunk, are you boys?”

Before either Keith or Hadvar could deny that, a platter of hunks of beef and cheese was dropped onto the table in front of them. “Husband! Let him speak!” Sigrid was back, full of reprehension for his actions. “And you, boys. Eat.”

Hadvar leaned back in his seat but idly grabbed a square of cheese. “I don’t know what all else needs to be told. The dragon just flew over and wrecked the whole place. Mass confusion.” He paused to chew for a moment before gesturing to Keith at his side. “I doubt I’d of made it out alive if not for my friend here. I’ve got to get back to Solitude and report this, let them know what happened.”

Alvor leaned forward and reached to grab some food his own before Sigrid slapped at his hand and tutted him. “Not for you, your own supper is cooking.” He laughed, but Keith could see anxiety creeping into his eyes.

Keith shifted awkwardly. Although it was just a conversation alerting the family, he felt it was still a little too personal for him to be there. He looked away from the gathering at the table, glancing around the rest of the room and spotted a young girl sitting rapt on a bed. She waved at Keith as soon as she saw him looking, and he was startled for a moment before waving back.

“Uncle,” Hadvar brought Keith’s attention back to the adults in the room. “We came here to warn you, but also to ask for your help. Is there anything you can spare, food, supplies, maybe a place to stay the night?”

“Of course! For family, and for a -” Alvor gave Keith a quick look, taking him in again. “A trusted friend, I’d be glad to help however I can. That said, I could use your help too.” Alvor nodded to Hadvar before turning fully to face Keith. “If he’s headed to Solitude, we need you to head to Whiterun. The Jarl needs to know if there’s a dragon on the loose. We’re practically defenceless out here, that wall won’t count for anything if we have no guards to defend it. If you can get word to Jarl Balgruuf, he can send men to help defend the town.”

Keith tore his gaze from Alvor’s for a moment, only to find everyone else in the room was watching him as well. Seeing the Jarl? That would … Keith was practically an Outlaw for Shor’s sake! But, Keith remembered the sheer destructive power of that dragon and saw the many people here running away in place of the residents of Helgen. Hell, maybe he’d be able to get Shiro to do it if he gave him all the information. He forced himself to look back and meet Alvor’s eyes. “Of course.”

“Good! Thank you, my boy.” Alvor stood from his chair and came around to clasp onto Keith’s shoulder, the left one at least. Was the whole family like this? “Now, if there’s anything you need from me, just let me know.”

Keith eyed the plate of food Sigrid had brought out, and she seemed to notice. Almost immediately, she sprang up and grabbed a lambskin bag, which she started to fill with the food. Whether he was going to have to ask for some of that or not, Keith decided that it was okay. There was only really one thing he wanted at the moment. “Do you have a change of clothes?”

Hadvar and Alvor barked out a laugh, while Sigrid made a small exclamation. “Hold a moment, boy. I think we should have at least a tunic and some pants you can wear.”

While she flitted about, gathering other items and hopefully some clothes, Alvor moved past Keith and back towards the door. “I should get back to work. Make yourself at home.” 

Although he was still standing, Keith moved closer to the table and began to eat idly like Hadvar was. Behind both of them, the little girl who had been sitting on the bed jumped up and was rushing around after her mother, while calling out to Hadvar. Her questioning made Keith even more uncomfortable, as it truly made sure that Keith knew he was the stranger here. He did his best to push through the discomfort though and waited patiently until Sigrid came back to the table. 

“Here. It may be a little long on you, but these should work.” She handed him a greyish tunic with brown pants, as well as the lambskin she had been filling. “And, here’s some food. I’d offer you a bed for the night, but …” Sigrid nodded her head at Hadvar, still sitting at the table beside her. “Just head out back on the road. Right across the way, that’s the Inn. Tell Orgnar I sent you, and he’ll put you up for the night.”

Keith nodded, rearranged the items in his hold, and thanked both Sigrid and Hadvar before heading to the door. As he pushed it open, the fresh air that invaded his sinuses was a welcome change to the awkward and stuffy air of the home he hadn’t even noticed until it was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kay, this is the second to last chapter from before. I honestly don't remember why I was so determined to take us through the entire opening sequence so faithfully, but I was. I hope you liked this all the same! Next time we'll get to Whiterun  
> Come chat on Tumblr or leave a comment! I'd love to hear what your thoughts are!  
> [Tumblr](https://floralb0t.tumblr.com/?)


	4. The Man Who Cried Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith makes his way to Whiterun. not exactly exciting but should be the last of the long exposition for a good long while!

The winds that drifted past Keith were full of pine and smoke. For a moment he considered turning right, staying on the wooden porch, and stopping in to see Alvor’s forge in use. He could certainly use a different set of armour, the one he was wearing now was ragged by the attacks against it and his own efforts to de-Imperialize it. Touching the stiff, burnt, and bashed armour though, Keith decided that his first priority was to get out of that and into the change of clothes given to him by Sigrid. 

Just as she had said, Keith found an inn across the road. It’s sign identified it as the Sleeping Giant, which was as quaint a name as it could be. His favourite was probably going to always be Falkreath’s Inn, the Dead Man’s Drink, but Keith had started getting recognized in town and wouldn’t be going back for a while. Valga didn’t have enough customers to keep her out of Keith’s hair anyways. In the meantime, he hoped that the proprietors here would not let their gazes linger on him.

The Inn, once he entered it, seemed a tad busy. The building wasn’t crowded by any stretch, but besides the person behind the bar counter, there were at least 4 others and himself. Perhaps then, the worker behind the counter would be too busy to deal with him for any longer than necessary. Keith adjusted his grip on the items in his hold and walked directly to the counter.

The man behind it, only 5 or 6 years Keith’s senior, looked at him carefully as he approached, but spoke before Keith could. “We’ve got food and drink, Stranger. Ain't much else to tell.”

“Are you Orgnar?” Keith asked, trying to act as casual as possible. “I was sent by Sigrid to get a room for the night.”

The man nodded. “That’s me, but you’ll want Delphine instead.” He turned to two of the other people, a pair of women. “Delph, you wanna take care of this?”

The older of the pair, a middle aged looking woman with pale skin and blonde hair stood from the table with what sounded like a tired sigh. Before talking to either Keith or Orgnar, she sent a look to the other girl she had been sitting with, sending the dark skinned but fair haired girl running behind the counter. ‘Delphine’ quickly fixed an intensive stare onto Keith however, and spoke in a rumbling voice. “So you’re that new visitor I saw pokin’ around. Need a bed?”

“Yes Ma’am.” Keith felt power radiating from her like a threat to keep in line. “Sigrid sent me?”

She sighed again and began walking towards a door on the side of the main hall. “I heard, I heard. It’s yours for the night. Gotta pay yourself if you want to stay any longer.”

Keith nodded as she pushed open a door and directed him inside. “I’ll be leaving in the morning.”

Delphine just pulled the door shut as soon as Keith walked through it, and he heard her steps retreating in the main hall. Immediately after, a song of sorts started up, muffling out any other possible sounds Keith could have heard. 

He sighed and took in the space: a wooden bed, chair, and dresser. When opened, the few drawers contained little more than extra tools likely for use in the Inn. Nothing really worth anything, not that he would want to take it anyways. Keith set his items down on the bed, removing his belt and pouch, and quickly changed into the set of different clothing. Just as he had been warned, the sleeves were a mite too long, as well as the legs on the pants, but just being into something not horribly battered was a relief. Besides, it was nothing a few folds couldn’t fix for now, and a needle can’t fix in the future.

Keith considered heading back into the common area of the hall, now that he was more comfortably dressed, but decided that it was late enough that he could stay in his room. The goal currently was to not draw suspicion.

Right?

Sometimes he’d have to go into a town and people may recognize him, but most of the time Keith preferred to fight for or steal what he needed from bandits, and drop the rest off in front of a local guardpost in the dead of night. Shady or not, and whether they dipped into the pot so to speak, Keith didn’t care. As long as some of it was shared that was all he was after. Anything that he felt needed to go to someone specifically, he’d deliver it himself. People were less likely to be targeted for revenge that way, and in a way, it almost became his calling card.

Akira, hunter of bandits and relinquisher of goods. 

…

Keith, adopted baby brother and overly argumentative young adult.

Yeah, the best thing to do right now is to not draw suspicion. Hadvar knew him as Akira, and while he hadn’t been required to give his name to anyone else yet, thankfully, the less people that were close enough to ask, the better. Keith did crack the door open a slight, so the music the bard was singing could drift in better, as a way to pass the time. He sat as comfortably as possible in the chair beside the bed, and opened the lambskin pouch. 

The meal of beef and goat cheese spent alone in his room was almost lonely, but Keith tried to make the most of his situation. He could be eating some sort of scavenged food around a smoke-fire while trying to watch his back for wolves or something worse. It was much better to not look a gift horse in the mouth and enjoy what he had for now. 

Though it would have been better with some bread. But he did his best not to think of what sort of delights he could make over a fire with such ingredients, especially since he had a pretty solid chance of burning most of those things. In any case, Keith resolved to not finish his gifted food so that he could have some variety on what he ate while on the trail tomorrow. It would be better than just berries or rabbit meat if he could find some around lunch. Nah, way easier to just save this and then get something hearty at the Inn in Whiterun. Keith put away the remains of the beef and cheese, and sat content to listen to the bard for the rest of the night. 

The sunlight started streaming into his room with an orange glow. Keith lay on the bed and tried to enjoy the soft furs that covered frame. As the light began to lose it’s warm tones, he decided it was time to get up. It would be a long walk today and Keith wanted to get it over with. At least he was in a place that would hopefully offer some breakfast. 

His borrowed clothing was again folded at the end so that it would be short enough for his smaller frame. Keith considered adding his damaged armour overtop, but … it was ugly. And broken. But mostly ugly. He affixed his belt with the two sword sheaths and storage pouches back to his waist. That reminded him, he still had that dumb spell book he wasn’t going to use. Before leaving town, Keith probably had enough time to stop in with a trader and sell it at least. He should probably do the same with the armour too. 

The main hall of the Inn was warm with a still burning fire when Keith exited his room, items in tow. Behind the counter was the dark skinned girl, charcoal stick in hand as she wrote something down. Orgnar was sitting at a table, eating and occasionally poking the passed out body of what Keith assumed to be the local drunk. As soon as the girl saw him, she very excitedly watched his motions through the hall.

“Uh, good morning?” What the fuck?

The girl put her charcoal stick down and leaned over the counter. “Good morning! Are you in need of something to eat?”

“Yes?” Her excitement was weird, and Keith was fairly certain that it wasn’t directed at him.

She clapped her hands together and began rummaging around under the counter. Orgnar, distracted from his own food by the noise, was watching her with trained eyes. “Did you ask what he was looking for yet, Allura?”

“Oh!” The girl, Allura, stopped and popped back up over the counter. “Right, What would you be interested in? We’ve got a good spread!”

Her demeanor was beginning to make sense. New hire. “Uh, hm. Do you have any sweet rolls?”

Allura nodded and grabbed one, quickly handing it off to Keith. “Anything else to sate that appetite?”

He thought about it, slowly picking apart the roll. “If you have any goat cheese, I’ll take a slice of it.”

She quickly retrieved a hunk of the cheese as well, handing it off to Keith who quickly slipped it into the lambskin. It may not have been the best storage for it, surely he’d have to wash the skin once it was empty, but it was good enough for now. As soon as he had secured that, Keith waited for Allura to tell him how much the food cost. The barkeep-in-training was quickly reading through a page and counting

“That will be… 6 gold please,” She paused and Keith saw as she glanced back to Orgnar for confirmation, before nodding and holding a hand out. He quickly fished out the money and passed it over. 

Keith sighed at how little gold he had left, but backed away from the counter, and from Orgnar/the drunk’s table. He stood near the fire pit, basking in it’s warmth while he ate, letting the last of the morning leave him. As soon as that was done, Keith retrieved his damaged imperial armour from the room, and left the Inn. He had a whole day’s worth of things to be doing.

As he stepped out of the Inn, Keith stood for the briefest of moments to appreciate the sunlight. From this spot he could see only the barest corner of Hadvar’s forge, as well as a sawmill just behind it. Both looked like they had not been started up yet this morning, so Keith instead headed just next door to the Inn towards the general trader. As he prepared to push open the door, Keith could hear the sounds of a disagreement. 

“I said no! No adventures, no theatrics, no thief chasing!”

“Well what are you going to do then, huh? Let's hear it!”

“We are done talking about this.” Keith finally pushed the door open and saw a man behind the counter gesturing towards the door. “There’s a customer here, Camilla.”

Keith has stopped in this traders a few times over the year, but tried to space it out so that they would not remember him. It worked the other way as well, he was pretty sure that the pair were siblings, and while he had just been reminded that the woman was Camilla, he couldn't remember the man's name at all. Keith stepped up to the counter and immediately began to open the pouch that just barely fit that damned spell book so he could sell it. 

“Sorry you had to hear that,” the trader started. “I’m not sure what you heard but the Riverwood Trader is still open. Feel free to shop.”

Keith nodded. He maybe should care, since his whole thing was stealing items and money back from bandits, but that wasn't what was on his mind right now. Instead he managed to wiggle the book out of it’s very tight home and deposited it on the counter. “How much can you give me for this?”

The man picked it up and took a quick peek at the inside before pulling out a sheet of paper and searching it. “Hm. It’s in fairly good quality, so how does 15 septums sound?”

Keith was pretty sure that it was worth more, but he didn't care too much. “I’ll take that,” he said without hesitation. He continued looking through that pouch, as well as his other pockets before depositing a few more things on the counter, and walking away to inspect the store while the trader counted out how much it would all be worth. There was a variety of potions on the shelves which adorned the southern walls, as well as some small pieces of armour and a good supply of baskets contained foodstuffs. There were also a few weapons showing varying levels of wear and tear, laying about or on racks also for sale. On the north side of the building, there wasn’t much but a table, a pile of firewood, and some furs hung on the wall to help keep the heat in.

Camilla sat at the table, muttering to herself about some sort of object that seemed to have been stolen. Keith couldn’t make out most of the words, only hearing “barrow”, “claw”, “downright cow-chuckers, every last one.” Despite her grousing, Keith still held fast that it wasn’t any of his business currently, and he still needed to worry about that dragon. About speaking to the Jarl and getting in touch with Shiro. And most certainly, not going anywhere near an Imperial stronghold until he could be certain that anyone who heard him identify himself as Akira in Helgen had forgotten, or was dead. 

The trader was nearly finished counting out how many coins Keith would be earning when he was interrupted by Keith dropping a pair of fur-leather gauntlets and similar pauldrons on the counter. He sighed, grabbed a charcoal stick, and began to write the math down so Keith couldn’t disrupt it again. Keith didn’t care much about how it would be affecting the Riverwood traders, he just knew he needed some protection that was in a little better care than his own damaged set. There was relative silence other than the very quiet mutterings of the two trader siblings and the crackle of the fire as Keith waited patiently for the math to be finished. 

In the end, Keith received 10 gold septums and had little more in his pockets than his vials of frostbite poison and various helpful potions. He left the Riverwood Traders nearly an hour after sunrise, by his own calculations, and was getting rather impatient to start his journey to Whiterun. Before leaving Riverwood for good that day, Keith stopped back at Alfor’s forge. The man still wasn’t out working it yet, and Keith just decided to leave the damaged old armour there, on the workbench. He didn’t care if Alfor used it for scraps or tried to fix it and sell it, so he didn’t bother to leave a note for the older man to explain why it was there. 

His duties in town done, Keith stepped out onto the main road and started off towards Whiterun. The main road was cobbled stone in dirt, with a stone bridge over the river. As soon as he had crossed it, Keith held true to old habits and began marching through the woods rather than follow the well-worn path. The birdsong was quaint, and as he rose up to the break in the mountain range that separated Riverwood and Whiterun, Keith took his first short break. Sitting on a stone in the sunlight, he spent no more than ten or fifteen minutes enjoying a snack of some nearby snowberries and the extra goat cheese he had bought. As soon as that time had passed, Keith stood, faced the growing incline and smiled. It wouldn’t be a challenge until it was near vertical, but it was still something different and  _ that _ was fairly fun.

He made sure his borrowed clothing had their folds made tight and then began the hike up the stone foothills. Initially it was very easy, just Keith having to pay more attention on where he was placing his feet. The longer he went though, the more a small, pleased smile was growing on Keith’s face. The closer it got to hand over hand climbing, the more worthwhile this endeavour was. If things weren’t challenging, then what was the point? The stone and dirt that made up much of the ground here was getting colder and colder. Keith paused perhaps an hour or so into his hike/climb, and took stock of where he was. 

Based on the angle of the sun and the chill that was invading the air, Keith assumed he was nearing the top of this stoney overpass. He’d want to move quickly once he reached the plateau of the top, as the gentle snow there never seemed to melt and he wasn’t wearing thick enough clothing to withstand it for long. To the west of him, somewhere, Keith knew there was a bandit hideout. He’d never been to it personally, but it was one of the ones he had marked out on a map back in his shack as a place to shake up in the near future. In any case, he’d better get a move on before frostbite set in.

Keith picked up the pace to the best of his ability. You can only pull yourself up a rock wall so fast, but everything else he did as quickly as he could. The extra speed in his movements also helped keep him warm, not that it mattered much. Shiro had once commented that Keith had to have been an ice mage in a previous life, he just stayed so warm in cold situations that there had to be some sort of goofy reason like that. 

As Keith pulled himself over the final ledge, he was pleased with the warm burn it left in his muscles. He took a quick moment to survey his surroundings, noting that it was likely early afternoon. Reaching into his bags on his belt, Keith grabbed a small hunk of the cooked beef and chewed while he considered taking a real break. A breeze caught his clothes and surged up across his skin leaving him shivering for a few long seconds. Keith decided that taking a break was not in the cards right now, and wouldn’t be till he was onto the downward side of the plateau.

As soon as that was decided, Keith started stomping through the snow and the trees. It was cold now, and wet, which was making the cold worse. Still though, he didn’t worry about it. As long as he kept moving, Keith felt, he’d be fine. The snow was not  _ that _ bad. There was less foliage up here, but Keith still passed the occasional tree or snowberry bush. The berries here were almost cold enough to be frozen solid, but Keith still enjoyed sucking on the cold little droplets. They had a nice taste, especially when cold. For as long as possible, Keith moved forward with a single-minded level of determination. Even stopping to check the distance he’d walked didn’t slow the young bandit for bandit’s for long.

When Keith reached the opposite side of the plateau, he got cocky. Looking at the somewhat steeper downward path he was planning on taking, Keith didn’t bother climbing down. Instead he crouched slightly, and let himself slide down the snowy dirt and rock that made up the ground here. Twice, Keith actually jumped to a lower level rather than have to climb the rock face downward. As he neared the bottom, the rocks were getting less slick. The air was warmer, snow less prominent, and Keith was more confident in his ability. In a way, the jumping down was almost like dancing and was certainly fun. At least until he slipped and tumbled the last ten feet to where the ground started evening out again. 

There was a sharp, consistent pain on his left hip as he stood back up. Keith sucked in a breath as he fingered the flat of his hip on the side, and felt the blossoming feeling of what was sure to bruise. Worse yet, it was exactly where his short on that side gently hit while he was walking, and no doubt it had been this portion of the pommel that had caused the bruise in the first place. He waited a moment, counted and breathed deep while he tried to get over the pain of the fall. The stinging that it left however, fucking hurt, for lack of better terms. 

Keith sighed and gently let himself back down to a sitting position again. He had two options, buck up and deal with it for the rest of the hours long walk to Whiterun, or take a sip of one of his remaining health potions. As he weighed his options, he decided that this was a good time to take another good break. If he wasn't starting to get hungry, he probably would have tried to push on but with another several hours to walk, Keith was just being practical. 

As he sat and ate the food Sigrid had given him that morning, Keith decided he’d take a sip of some magical health. Like always, the liquid tasted strange and warm, but coated his throat as went down. It took a moment of willpower to stop himself from drinking the whole thing, but he managed. The bandit hunter Keith was a bit of a hoarder of potions such as this. Every time he made himself a new cache, he ended up stuffing way too many potions into it. As such, he was fastidious in making sure the stopper for the vial had been replaced tightly, and securing it back in his side pouch.

The rest of his food was quickly consumed and it was time to get back on the path. From here, Keith could just barely see the outline of Whiterun on the horizon, and it was probably another four hours away. Sighing, Keith stood slowly, testing out his hip to ensure that it had worked. Of course it had, and he had been a fool to consider otherwise, but it was habit to check just in case. Now that he knew it was all fine, there was nothing stopping him from finishing the full day trek.

From here, the ground was more even, with much less snow and trees, and more wolves. Keith’s lack of armour was more important here. He had to keep his mind very present, listening for any steps other than his own. If he could scare off any wolves before they even got close, then it wouldn’t be an issue, but if he couldn’t then things may get hairy. Watching the sky to track and judge the movement of the sun, Keith hiked up his belt around his waist and added a purpose to his walk.

The sun had finished setting by the time Keith was finally walking up the stone path to Whiterun’s main gate. A few guards were giving him stares, but most kept their eyes trained out on the moors. He figured they had got their full of watching him approach while he was still too far away to see them doing it. He had even walked on the path through the open land once it ended up near him again. Obviously he wasn’t worth the trouble they could have given him.

When he rounded the bend, crossed the small stream and got in front of the door, he had to pause. Two guards were standing in front of it chatting, a woman and a man, but stopped and gave him a harsh look when he started up the steps.

“Hold, boy.” One said with a hand out, while the other continued glaring. “City is closed.”

Keith had a hard time tearing his eyes away from the speaking guard’s male companion. “...why?”

“Well, the dragons.” The female guard said again, as if it should be obvious. “Only city residents can go in or out.”

The one time being a city fool would have helped… Keith grit his teeth. If he announced that he was the one with information from Helgen, then he wouldn't be able to make Shiro do it. They’d be expecting him. But what other choice did he have? ‘Oh my brother’s a member of the companions and he normally sends me two letters a month, even though I never respond, but I haven't received any since the last snow, please let me in so I can make sure he's okay?’ Yeah fucking right, okay. And by the look of the guards, they wouldn't be willing to let him in on the sly. He’d have to do it himself. 

“I… I carry word from Helgen and Riverwood.” 

The glaring guard’s eyes widened and the one who had been speaking took a step back in shock. “The dragons! You have news?”

“He does smell of fire.”

_ Rude. _

“Irileth said not to let anyone in though.”

“I’m sure she'd make an exception for someone who has word.”

The guards both took a step towards the door and away from Keith. They continued to mutter to themselves before one turned to him again. 

“You did actually see the dragon, right?”

Keith kicked at the dirt. “Yeah.”

The guard nodded and then motioned to her companion before turning back to Keith. “As a precaution, we’re sending an escort with you to the Keep. The Jarl needs to hear what you know right away, but we are under lock currently.”

Were they fucking serious? His hands tightened into fists at his sides. An escort just to walk to Dragonsreach? What, did they think he was going to stop, have a pint at whatever the fuck the Inn here is, and die while he sat stewing? Keith stopped and took a breath. This was unfair, and he was going to need to follow them now anyways. “Okay, let's go then.”

The guard nodded at him and clapped him on the shoulder. “It's late, boy. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner you can get yourself a bed out at the Bannered Mare.” She pointed him towards the crack in the doors, where Keith could see into the city.

Being inside any city was uncomfortable, but Whiterun was probably less so than others. As much as Keith tried to get Shiro to meet him literally anywhere outside the city when he was in Skyrim, even just the stables outside the city or perhaps Honningbrew, he didn’t immediately want to leave the province as soon as he got within the walls. That said, as Keith made the half hour trudge uphill with a guard at his side, he wanted to back up, climb a wall if he needed to, and escape. It was dark enough now that there was no-one other than a few drunks, guards, and beggars out in the streets. He wanted to stop and leave a few septums with the young girl he passed sleeping on a bench in the plaza, but his escort didn’t slow as they passed. He knew what it was like to be stuck out in the cold. Perhaps the guards in this city didn’t.

The plains district was little more than residences and empty stalls, with what he could see of the cloud district looking no better. Even the Jorrvaskr didn’t look like much. Keith remembered the awful rumble of the Dragon’s roar and wondered if the people of Whiterun had heard it. No doubt they had - if he had a home or a family to hide in or with until the creatures were gone, he would want to do the same. He felt like a ghost as he ascended the stairs up to Dragonsreach. His escort had not said a word to him, and only a handful to any of their peers who they had crossed paths with. Once they reached the top, and the wooden plateau of the hill's peak was underfoot, he looked back out across the city. Winking lights went out, one by one, as the need for sleep took over those who couldn’t help but keep a watchful eye on the skies.

The guard escorting Keith didn’t immediately turn and grasp the shoulder of his tunic to pull him along, and Keith was confused as to why. When he turned to see why the pattern was broken, he saw the guard watching a form climbing up the rocks, only a dozen or so feet from the staircase. 

“C’mon, whelp! You’re going to have to try better than that to sneak your way around the city,” the guard suddenly barked out at the figure, who Keith saw instantly freeze. “Get your ass back inside and I’ll consider  _ not _ telling Secret-Fire that you were outside the Keep at night again.”

A shakey, obviously stressed voice yelped out an “okay! Got it! Understood!” and the figure started climbing up again, as fast as they could manage. The display having been dealt with, Keith’s escort turned back to him and began to forcefully lead him further, up towards the giant wooden doors that led inside. His escort stopped to offer a few quick words to those standing watch at the doors before having one pulled open and leading Keith inside.

It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the brightness and warmth of the interior of Dragonsreach, but he didn’t even get that full moment before he was near being dragged up the imposing stairs to get to the Jarl’s throne. Keith was fully able to see again as they were passing two very long, matching tables, and the Jarl’s personal housecarl Irileth began to fill his vision as she nearly sprinted to intercept him from his forced path to Balgruuf. He watched as she opened her mouth to likely demand some sort of information from him or his escort when some sort of crash sounded from the room to his right.

Keith paused at the echoing sound of something very large and heavy crashing to the ground, as well as a shout in surprise or pain, and it seemed that everyone else in the room did as well. Nobody spoke until the raspy voice of the man Keith recognized as the court wizard spoke up.

“Did my wolf of a nephew sneak out again?”

The same nervous, shakey, and very surely embarrassed voice that Keith had heard from the figure climbing up the rocks around Dragonsreach wafted back into the main hall. “No! … could someone help me get this barrel off me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the last of the chapters that were posted in the first attempt I took at this fic. I'm excited to get this one up bc I'm really looking forward to what comes next! from this chapter on it'll be flipping Keith/Lance perspective on a pretty much regular basis.
> 
> As always, don't hesitate to leave a comment or send me a message over on Tumblr! thanks again for reading, kiss!
> 
> [tumblr link](floralb0t.tumblr.com)


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